


Scrap Paper

by Arvak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27137519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvak/pseuds/Arvak
Summary: Just a piece of a fic I decided to do away with, but I figured the idea was cool so I'd post it just in case anyone got inspiration or something from it.-Except, after doing one more once-around, he noticed the air start to get heavy and dark all around him. It swallowed up the trees and began to turn the sky black. Impending danger screamed in his mind.Peter lost his breath and turned to run back to the car with wild eyes, but the hair on his body stood up as his instincts screamed not to step into the shadows.“Stiles!” Peter cried out as he ran back to the Nemeton where the darkness was less thick. But it was moving towards him, circling him. Trapping him. He hopped onto the Nemeton and crouched down, looking around wildly for something - anything - that could give him purchase on this situation. “STILES!” he screamed. His instincts were roaring inside of him. He was about to die. Some part of him just knew that.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Scrap Paper

**Author's Note:**

> (Because I decided not to keep it, I didn't bother editing it and putting in prettier words and fancier sentences and actual correct grammar, so please forgive me) :)

_“Hang on, I’m looking at the lore now,”_ Lydia said over the phone.

“I’m about a minute out from the Nemeton.” Peter cursed when he hit a rut and the car jerked wildly. He regained control and pulled the handbrake while turning the wheel sharply to narrowly avoid crashing hood-first into a tree. The car skidded to a halt and he gunned it until he spun around the damn thing and continued on.

_“Okay, it says something about the hell hounds being a vessel for evil and enhancing and feeding off of dark magic in the event that magic was traded, but there’s nothing about being bitten.”_

Peter didn’t fucking care what the lore said. All he wanted to know was if Stiles was alive and okay.

_“Stiles isn’t a magical being,”_ Scott said. _“And he’s definitely not a_ dark _magic magical being.”_

_“Unless there’s still something from the Nogitsune left inside of him...”_ murmured Lydia.

“Hang on, I’m here.” He drifted around the last curve and he saw the Nemeton come into view. He threw the brake again, skidding to a stop, and jumped out to run over to the stump with the phone on speaker in his pocket.

Stiles was no where to be seen. Had the idiot really gone home?! He looked around, confused and stressed, and saw nothing out of sorts.

Except, after doing one more once-around, he noticed the air start to get heavy and dark all around him. It swallowed up the trees and began to turn the sky black. Impending danger screamed in his mind.

Peter lost his breath and turned to run back to the car with wild eyes, but the hair on his body stood up as his instincts screamed not to step into the shadows.

“ _Stiles!_ ” Peter cried out as he ran back to the Nemeton where the darkness was less thick. But it was moving towards him, circling him. Trapping him. He hopped onto the Nemeton and crouched down, looking around wildly for something - anything - that could give him purchase on this situation. “STILES!” he screamed. His instincts were roaring inside of him. He was about to die. Some part of him just knew that.

“Peter!”

Peter jerked around and saw Stiles run out of the shadows. He looked strange. He looked pale, and caught in a shadow. He looked unreal. “Peter, help me!” Stiles cried, running towards him and reaching an arm out. Peter leapt from the Nemeton to run to him, but all of a sudden a hell hound came sprinting out of the shadows behind Stiles and jumped at the boy.

Peter screamed as the hound’s claws bore into Stiles’ back, and those sharp black teeth snapped in the air where Stiles’ body had been. Because Stiles was suddenly gone, had just _disappeared_ in a show of smoke, and the hell hound seemed to grin evily, and began stalking Peter.

Peter had no idea what was happening. All he could do was scramble back on top of the Nemeton and stare, trying desperately to comprehend and come up with a plan, but failing tremendously.

This is exactly why he hates magic.

The hound approached him until Peter’s back was right up against the shadow that had finally enclosed him into a space only on the Nemeton. The world around him was gone, swallowed up by darkness. The only thing he could see were the fire-bright eyes and shiny black teeth of the hound standing nose-to-nose with him before the darkness took over.

For a lengthy moment, he thought he had died. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything, and he no longer felt as if he were on solid ground anymore.

Then there was noise. The echoing bark reaching his ears from far away, circling him. Howling erupting from the distance.

He opened his eyes, even touched his face to make sure they were really open, and saw nothing. He jerked around and traced the sound of the barking, and saw brief flashes of fire eyes far away along an endless empty plane of nothingless.

“Stiles!” Peter called out, jerking when there was barking closer to him. Dangerous eyes peered at him from the shadows. “Stiles!!”

“Peter?” It was Stiles. He sounded terrified, but alive, and only half a mile away. His voice carried as if he had to shout.

He whipped around and tried to see through the darkness. “Stiles!” But was it really him? Or was this another apparition of sorts? Had he really seen Stiles while he was still on the Nemeton? Is any of this even real?

“Fuck, where are you, Peter?!”

“I’m- I’m over here!” Peter shouted, stumbling his way through the emptiness with an arm out in case he ran into anything, hesitating with every step in case he fell off a cliff.

Was he even in the same realm as earth? He had heard Lydia saying something about the hell hounds being from a different realm. Perhaps this was it? Even though that very thought threatened to give Peter an existential crisis he surely wasn’t ready for.

“Well, you can’t stop talking or else- Fuck it, let’s just Marco-Polo this shit! Marco!”

“I’m… I’m not doing that, Stiles!” At least Peter knew this was definitely the real Stiles. No creature or recreation of him could possibly capture Stiles’ ability to make Peter roll his eyes even in the midst of a terrifying situation.

All of a sudden, Peter hit something, and that something yelped and cursed. “Fuck, fuck, Peter?!” Stiles said with a voice of hysteria.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Peter said, his hands gripping onto Stiles’ shoulders and feeling until he was sure this was in fact Stiles’ shoulders and neck and jaw and not anything else.

“Oh thank god, I thought I just ran into a hell hound or something.”

Then, Stiles smashed his face into Peter’s neck and hugged him tight, digging his finger nails into his back. Peter wrapped his own arms around Stiles and pressed his lips against the boy’s neck, breathing in his scent - the only other scent in this void-…

Fuck. Void…

“Stiles, where are we?” Peter asked, hushed.

Stiles laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And he shook in Peter’s arms.


End file.
